


These Changing Times

by midnightswordsdance



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fictional World, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Daddy Issues, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, for like a second, traumatic event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightswordsdance/pseuds/midnightswordsdance
Summary: Two years later, Mingyu comes back from the war, but he's not the same person he was before.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	These Changing Times

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This technically isn't my first fic ever, but it's the first one I'm posting, so hopefully this doesn't suck. Enjoy!
> 
> MILD TRIGGER WARNING: Post-traumatic Stress Disorder is a big theme in this story, so there are several mentions of a traumatic event a character experienced. I am not an expert on PTSD, but the character's feelings and actions reflect what I have researched. This event is not described in great detail, but please read at your own risk.
> 
> Edit: I had some more ideas for the story and wanted to make the conclusion a bit longer, so I added some things.

Nobody cheers for the soldiers if they’ve lost the war. 

The port was far from empty when the boat pulled up to the pier, but as Mingyu and the handful of soldiers that made it stepped off the ramp, the crowd was silent. No one saying “welcome home!”, no shouts of approval, not even any insults. Just silent. You could hear a pin drop.

His eyes scanned the port and found parents hugging their sons and daughters with tears in their eyes, husbands kissing wives, ready to take them home, but there wasn’t anyone waiting for him. He found himself unsurprised; after all, Minghao probably assumed he was dead.

So, once everyone had departed the ship and the crowd started to separate, he went home. The idea of home was an odd concept in itself - it suggested stability and consistency, both things he hadn't had in a while. He took the train, because that’s what he was supposed to be used to, what he was expected to be used to. It took him three tries to swipe his card because everything felt unfamiliar, and he felt almost like a child, relearning things he was supposed to already know. He could feel everyone staring at him as he got on, with his uniform and the suitcase all banged up and dented from months upon months of traveling, and that felt unfamiliar, too. He put his forehead against the window, watching as all of the towns and cities flew by, trying to ignore the stares.

"My son died in the war," said the old woman sitting next to him. "Just a few weeks ago."

Mingyu turned his head to look at her. "I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am."

"No, he was an asshole," said the woman, waving her hand dismissively. "It just seems like you've lost a lot. And I hope you know that the country supports all of you. You're heroes."

He gave a small smile and turned away again, but her words stuck in his mind. _Hero_. He didn't feel like a hero.

His apartment building looked the same as it did before he left, and Mingyu clung to that small speck of familiarity. If he closed his eyes, he could stand in the center of the lobby and it would be like he’d never left, like the war had not been lost, like he hadn’t lost almost everything. Like nothing had changed.

For a second, as he stood outside Minghao’s front door, he contemplated everything that could possibly go wrong, and there were a lot of things. Minghao could have moved in the two years he’d been gone, or was simply not home. Or maybe their relationship was less amicable now than Mingyu had thought it was, and Minghao was going to kick him out.

Or maybe Minghao would let him in out of some sick obligation he felt because Mingyu was a soldier and soldiers on the losing side of a war are usually not expected to live, even though Mingyu happened to be incredibly alive, and he would eventually grow to resent and hate him even more than he probably did. 

But Mingyu knocked anyway. And, to his relief, Minghao opened the door.

Like everything else, Minghao looked different. Handsome, beautiful, but different. His hair was dyed silver and was a bit longer, and he was thinner. A necklace Mingyu had never seen before hung around his neck (from a new lover, maybe?), and there was a new tattoo on the inside of his forearm. When he saw Mingyu, he startled like a rabbit, clutching the door frame with his other hand. “Mingyu?”

“Hi. You’re here.”

“ _You’re_ here,” replied Minghao, his eyes wide. “Oh my God, Mingyu, I thought you were dead.”

Mingyu laughed, even though nothing was really funny. “Nope. Still alive. Extremely alive, in fact.”

It was probably too much to ask for things between them to be the same. They were speaking to each other, at least, but there was a hesitance in Minghao's expression and demeanor, a little reluctance to look him in the eye. The shock of seeing Mingyu was obviously starting to wear off, being replaced by suspicion. "So, if you're still alive," said Minghao, "what are you doing here?"

"This is still technically my apartment."

"Fair." Something about Minghao's face showed that he obviously did not think it was Mingyu's apartment anymore.

"Don't worry, I don't want to talk to you just as much as you don't want to talk to me." The corner of Minghao's mouth twitched downward. "I had assumed after I was forced into the army that I was going to go on the battlefield and die a glorious death surrounded by my fellow soldiers, so there wasn't any reason to make arrangements back home," said Mingyu. "But then, the war ended, and now I...I have nowhere to go."

"You want to stay here." It wasn't a question, nor an invitation.

"...Maybe?"

There was a long pause, an agonizing plateau where Minghao just stared at him, face incredulous.

Mingyu wasn't sure what came over him, but he reached over and took Minghao's hand, where it was resting on the door frame. "Please, Minghao," he said, hoping he sounded persuasive. "I know you don't owe me anything, but please help me. Just for a little while."

And even though so much had changed since he had gone off to fight, he still knew how to push Minghao's buttons. He slowly counted to five, maintained proper puppy-eye contact despite Minghao's steely gaze, and, like clockwork, Minghao gave a long sigh. "Fine. But you need a shower."

~

In the kingdom of Manta, the northwest corner of the region was called the Autumn Quarter, named for the reddish mountains that inhabited it. In the Autumn Quarter was a place called Gladius City, which was where Mingyu was from. People from Gladius City were built for war. They were expected to live for the war and die for the war, to start all the wars and end all the wars, and most of them wanted to. But not Mingyu.

To his parents, Mingyu was soft, Mingyu was delicate. Mingyu was the type of person that trusted everyone and everything, the type of person that was cheery and optimistic without needing a reason to be. Mingyu remembered a sunny day when he was six and there was a stray cat in his front yard. It was a kitten, really, all white, with little patches of orange around the ears. They had been the bestest of best friends for only two days when Mingyu’s older brothers saw it by the side of the house and shot it. _For fun_. And then as Mingyu started crying, which was a perfectly normal response to witnessing an innocent cat being shot before his very eyes, they _laughed._

Mingyu was soft, Mingyu was delicate. Mingyu was different.

Mingyu's father was a soldier, and so was his grandfather, and so was his great-grandfather, and so on, and so Mingyu was expected to become a soldier too. Mingyu's grandfather had died long before Mingyu was born, in a war, like all good Gladius City people do. According to Mingyu's father, he cared a lot about honor. Honor, he said, was fighting for your kingdom to your very last breath. Honor was representing your family with pride. Honor was controlling your emotions, putting others' needs before your own.

And honestly, Mingyu wasn't very good at any of those things. He moved away from Gladius City as soon as he turned eighteen. Leaving the city in such a fashion meant dishonor, to him, to his family, and to all who knew him. No one leaves Gladius City unless they're going to war, and Mingyu had no interest in joining the war effort. The war was where his grandfather had died, and his father, and his oldest brother, and he wanted no part in that.

His mother and his other brother pleaded with him to stay, to be who he was meant to be, to be the boy that killed the innocent stray cat instead of befriending it, to be honorable. But there was a point sometime between his father's death and his brother's where Mingyu realized that he and honor were never going to be friends.

So he walked away from war. Until seven years passed, and he was suddenly forced to go back.

~

Minghao was sitting on the bed with a book when Mingyu walked out of the bathroom, still toweling off his wet hair. It had been a bit weird changing his clothes in the bathroom with his suitcase propped up against the wall instead of just wrapping himself in a towel and going to what used to be his closet, but times had changed.

Minghao had joked sometimes about being hot, which he was, but Mingyu always felt that he was the most beautiful when he wasn't trying to put on a show. The way his head was angled down as he read showed off the elegant line of his neck, and he had those reading glasses on, the ones that always used to drive Mingyu crazy. Seeing Minghao now, two years older, his features more defined, his eyes a bit wiser than before, made him wish he'd never left, made him wonder a thousand _what if's_ , a million _why didn't I's_ and just one _I miss you_.

And then Minghao looked up, noticed Mingyu's presence, and the moment was over. 

"Thank you again for letting me stay here," said Mingyu, since he wasn't sure what else to say. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course," said Minghao, frowning. "We're friends. That's what friends do."

That stung a little more than Mingyu was expecting. "Of course," he replied, trying to pretend like the already-tense atmosphere in the room hadn't become even more tense, as if the walls were moving closer and sucking all of the air out.

There was something in Minghao's eyes that felt magnetic, like he was drawing Mingyu into his personal space. Desire, extremely inappropriate desire bubbled up inside of him. They were friends now, after all. Minghao had said so himself.

Minghao didn't move an inch when Mingyu came closer, climbing onto the bed to straddle his hips, elbows caging him in, but he didn't push him away either. Part of Mingyu wished Minghao would make him stop, the intelligent part of his brain that knew he would regret this later. 

But Minghao didn't tell him to stop. He tangled his fingers in Mingyu's hair and pulled him closer, kissing him rough, aggressive. Mingyu fell into the kiss easily, a hand moving to Minghao's shoulder to keep him pressed to the bed, the other rubbing circles into his side. 

There had been so many things Mingyu had missed about Minghao, things that had kept him up for hours at a time while living in the army camp, but _this_ was probably the thing he missed the most. His lips moved down to Minghao's jaw and then to his neck, latching onto the skin with his teeth until Minghao inhaled sharply, hands flying to Mingyu's waist, head tipping back to give him more space. It was the sounds, and the beautiful visual of it all, that made Mingyu want to whisper into Minghao's skin, _I dreamed about you everyday. I prayed to every god I knew for the privilege of seeing you again, even just once. I'd do anything to have you back, anything._

This was why Mingyu had been awful at casual sex in college, but also why Mingyu had always been awful at denying Minghao anything.

He started unbuttoning Minghao's shirt, fumbling until Minghao pushed him away to do it himself. He tossed the shirt to the floor over Mingyu's shoulder and placed his glasses on the nightstand, and then sat up further to find his lips again. Minghao's skin was warm under his hands, as toned and as _sexy_ as ever. This, at least, hadn't changed, and boy was Mingyu grateful. 

"You're eager," said Minghao, a breathy giggle on the end of his words. "Been a while?"

Mingyu scrunched his nose up and shoved Minghao's shoulder. "Shut up," he replied, pulling his own shirt over his head. He decided not to say anything about how it obviously hadn't been a while for Minghao. There was a faint bite mark just above his waistband, only a few days old, and seeing it made red flash before him, hands curling into fists.

But he didn't say anything. It wasn't really his place.

They usually talked more during sex. Sometimes it was about nothing - Mingyu might ramble about his day as Minghao sucked him off, voice getting higher and squeakier the closer he got to orgasm. Or other times, it was dirtier than that. But it was rarely silent, so although it wasn't uncomfortable, per se, there was something off. Maybe it was the time spent apart.

He wasn't so keen on moving things along so fast, preferring to savor the time he had, but Minghao grabbed him by the wrist and leaned in close, sharp canines grazing his earlobe, purring, "Hurry up, sweetheart," in his ear, and he wouldn't be lying if he said his thought processes froze right about then. He nearly fell off the bed in his haste to get his pants off, much to Minghao's amusement.

After, they laid in bed, together, but still apart. Mingyu rolled off of Minghao's body with a groan, flopping onto the other side of the bed. He waited to see if Minghao might reach out and kiss him, or even look at him, but he didn't. The dull ache in his chest turned into a radiating burn.

"You can use the shower again if you need to," said Minghao. Mingyu looked over at him, but he was still staring at the ceiling. "There's food in the fridge," Minghao continued. "I put a pillow and a blanket out on the couch for you."

There were a lot of things Mingyu wanted to say, ranging from _how can you just pretend like nothing happened?_ to _I'm sorry, what did I do,_ but he swallowed them down. Even though it was beyond rude that he was kicking Mingyu to the couch even though they were already lying in a bed, Mingyu didn't want to open a conversation that could just as easily be closed and locked up forever. He cleared his throat to remove the emotion from his voice and said as normally as he could, "Thanks."

Minghao's couch was way too short for Mingyu's legs, but he made it work by curling into a fetal position. It wasn't until he was almost drifting off when he realized that Minghao had left a water glass on the end table for him. Back when they still lived together and slept in the same bed, Mingyu had always gotten thirsty in the middle of the night. The fact that Minghao had remembered was nice, but it only served as a reminder of what they used to be. What they could have been.

At least his grandfather would've been proud of him for pretending like nothing was wrong.

~

Minghao was from a place called Seelie City in the southeast quarter of Manta, which was called the Spring Quarter for its sprawling green hills. While people in the Autumn Quarter believed in war and honor, people from the Spring Quarter believed in ghosts and magic and utter chaos. Seelie City was a dangerous place in particular, full of shady people selling shady things in what they called their "magic market". Mingyu wasn't totally sure what "magic" they were talking about, but he was pretty sure that he never wanted to know.

Minghao never told him much about where he was from or why he left, but Mingyu could put the pieces together pretty well. People in Seelie City were chaotic on a downright psychopathic level, killing whoever they wanted and doing whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. Everyone else in Manta was scared of Seelie City people, and rightfully so.

Minghao, by contrast, loved order. He was the type of person that cleaned his entire apartment if he found one speck of dust and he never showed emotion if he didn't want to. Minghao was a bit like spring himself: unpredictable, mysterious, but beautiful all the same. Mingyu wasn't sure if he was that way because he had lived in Seelie City, or if he had left Seelie City because he was that way, but whatever had happened to him in Seelie City was traumatic enough that he shut Mingyu down every time he had tried to bring it up. 

Still, despite Minghao's best efforts to cleanse the stigma of Seelie City and the Spring Quarter off of him, it showed in tiny little ways. If he was walking outside at night, Minghao was on edge, walking twice as fast as normal and checking his surroundings constantly as if he was scared someone was going to jump out and attack him. If they were some place high up, high enough to see the hills, pastel green and almost _glowing,_ Mingyu could see Minghao's eyes watching them with longing. But other than that, he never would have assumed that Minghao was from Seelie City without the few things he had confessed to Mingyu. Although Mingyu hated that Minghao kept so much of himself secret, the things he did know comforted him and made him feel like he wasn't the only person that felt like they didn't belong. Like someone understood him.

But then Mingyu was drafted into the army, and two years passed. He didn't think they had too many things in common anymore.

~

Everyone was dying.

There was definitely blood coming out of his arm, from a dagger most likely, but Mingyu was alive. Extremely alive. But he was the only one.

From where he lay on the ground, he could see dead people everywhere. _Piles_ of dead people. They covered the floor so that there wasn't a square inch that wasn't occupied, crowded the doorways, spilled out of the windows of the warehouse they were hiding in. Stab wounds, missing appendages, and so much blood. He tried to close his eyes to block out the image, but for some reason he couldn't, he couldn't stop staring at every single dead soldier, wondering if they had families, if they had been in love, if they had been ready to die. He wondered if he was going to die, if he was ready to die.

It was raining outside, buckets of it, and some of it started flooding into the warehouse, turning red. Thunder rumbled in the background, shaking the ground with the force of it.

He could hear people still walking around, probably the people that had ambushed them, trying to make sure that everyone in the warehouse was dead. Something in him knew that he had to play dead if he was going to make it out of there with his life, but he couldn't stop shaking and tears were streaming down his face, and so he also knew that he wasn't going to last long. 

" _Kim. Min. Gyu._ "

The voice came from above him, and so Mingyu spared a quick dart of the eyes and-

It was his father.

And then, all of a sudden, his father was restraining him by the shoulders, yelling something, but Mingyu couldn't figure out what. He screamed, hands clawing at his shoulders, trying to get away, but his father had always been stronger than him. "Please, Father!" He cried out. "Stop!" 

His father gave a visible shudder, and it began to materialize into something different, some _one_ different. 

The person was saying something, but it sounded like he was underwater, which freaked Mingyu out even more. Once he'd sort of gained control of his limbs, he pushed the person away, _hard_. He thought he heard a crash, but that sounded like it was underwater, too. He curled up into an even tighter ball, panting through gritted teeth, adrenaline pumping like crazy.

"Mingyu!"

That, for once, didn't sound like it was underwater, but instead it was much too loud, like it was electrified and bouncing around in his brain, sizzling everything it touched. "Stop!" He yelled. "It hurts!"

"Mingyu, what the fuck is going on?"

Mingyu picked his head up from where it was buried in his knees to see Minghao, not his father, kneeling and clutching one of his hands, which was bleeding. He must have been cut by the water glass when it fell after Mingyu had pushed him. He looked around and saw Minghao's living room, not an abandoned warehouse.

"Oh my God, Minghao, I'm so sorry," he said, uncurling himself and reaching over to take Minghao's injured hand. Minghao jerked his hand back, like the idea of Mingyu touching him offended him. Mingyu's hands fell to his sides, playing with the hem of his shirt uselessly. "I don't know what happened."

"I don't know either," said Minghao, his voice shaky. Minghao's hand hadn't stopped bleeding, and it probably needed some medical attention. Mingyu tried to take Minghao's hand again to assess the damage, but Minghao yanked it away again. "Stop trying to touch me!"

"Minghao," Mingyu pleaded, "I wasn't trying to hurt you, I swear. It was just a nightmare. I'm fine. You just need to let me help you with that hand. I don't want it to get infected."

Minghao shook his head slowly, like he couldn't believe what was happening. "That was not just a nightmare."

"I'm so sorry, Minghao. Truly, I am. I didn't mean it."

"Well, if you didn't mean it, then what's going on, Mingyu?" Minghao asked. "You don't hurt people, Mingyu. You're the guy that relocated that family of mice to an alley instead of using traps like a normal person because you didn't want to hurt them. _You don't hurt people_." It was then that Mingyu could see that Minghao was trembling, from his shoulders to his hands.

"I don't know what's going on!" said Mingyu. "I didn't want to hurt you, I promise." He stood up and took a step towards Minghao, but Minghao stepped back. Like he was _afraid_ of Mingyu. Throughout all of the years Mingyu had known him, Minghao had never been one to be scared of _anyone_ , much less Mingyu. "Minghao, _please._ Please don't be scared of me."

"I think I should go," said Minghao, his hands still trembling. He took another step back, then another, and then practically ran back to his bedroom, leaving Mingyu alone with his thoughts.

~

Mingyu met Minghao for the first time when he was eighteen, in Circum City, the capital of Manta. Circum City was a place for second chances, the place where people could remake themselves. When Mingyu stepped off the train and through the gates leading outside, he was no longer a Gladius City war junkie, or a Gladius City weakling, or anything at all. For the first time, he was just Mingyu. 

He didn't really have many skills outside of using weapons, which he despised, so he went to university to figure out what he wanted to do. Minghao was in his photography class, and Mingyu was mesmerized by him the first moment that he saw him, working in the darkroom, hands confident, practiced. He didn't talk much, and he was intimidating, but he was easily the best in the class. And he was gorgeous, even though Mingyu hadn't wanted to admit it then. The first time they talked went a little something like this:

There was a small presentation after the midterm assignment, where everyone displayed their work and the others could critique it. Minghao, like usual, had a crowd of people looking at his photos with a bit of awe, but instead of talking to the viewers, he was off to the side, staring off into space. So, Mingyu went up to him.

"Why are you here all alone?" He asked Minghao. "Everyone's looking at your photos."

Minghao shrugged. "I don't really like talking to people."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," said Mingyu, backing away. "I'll go away."

"No, stay, " said Minghao. "I didn't mean you. You seem alright." He glanced at where Mingyu's collection was. "You take nice photos."

"I'm Mingyu."

"Minghao."

And that was what kickstarted Mingyu's first real friendship, besides the cat, of course. Mingyu hadn't really had friends back in Gladius City, because no one there wanted to talk about art or music or anything that wasn't about swinging a sword. Minghao was a blunt, sarcastic, grouchy guy, but he was loyal, and he was smart, and he wasn't afraid to kick someone's ass for Mingyu if that was what he wanted. Minghao was the type of friend Mingyu wished he'd had living in Gladius City, the type of person that knew _him_ , not the idea of him.

Minghao loved photography, and he loved to paint, and he loved to dance, and he happened to be good at all of those things. In fact, Minghao was good at pretty much anything he tried. And Mingyu was content to just watch Minghao, with all of his talents, go through university with flying colors, as just a friend. As a best friend.

But Mingyu was selfish and over-emotional, and it wasn't long before he realized that what he felt for Minghao was more than just a friend or even a best friend. For the first time in his life, he learned what yearning really was, the feeling of longing and desperation but also bliss, the feeling he felt whenever Minghao was in his presence. 

He continued to be selfish and emotional all the way through university, taking classes alongside Minghao, studying late in the library with him, even getting an apartment together, the same one Minghao lived in now, but never saying anything. He didn't want to ruin the friendship. He just wanted to stay and bask in Minghao's presence and attention for as long as possible before Minghao inevitably realized what Mingyu was doing and pushed him away.

Maybe to his family, that would have been honorable, to shove down his emotions, to pretend like everything was fine. But not to him. He tried not to think so much about honor anymore.

It was graduation day, and Mingyu was drunk after partying all night, trying not to think about how he and Minghao might separate now that they'll have different jobs and different lives, and Minghao had had to half-drag, half-carry him home. "What am I going to do with you?" Minghao had asked him once he'd deposited Mingyu on the couch in a heap of limbs, a hint of teasing in his voice.

And Mingyu, ever-selfish and emotional, broke. "I'm in love with you," he said slowly, and the sound of his own voice saying the words he'd kept inside for so long felt like a splash of cold water, sobering him up and making him extremely aware of his stupidity. "I have for a while." Minghao sucked in a long breath, but Mingyu cut him off before he could say anything. "You don't have to say anything," he continued. "I can leave tomorrow, if you want. Or now. That works too-"

"I'm in love with you too," said Minghao, and it was like the universe took a pause as Mingyu's brain short-circuited. He met Minghao's eyes for a moment, and the motherfucker actually looked _shy_ , which was an emotion Mingyu didn't even know he possessed. "It would be rude if you left now."

"Really?"

Minghao leaned forward, gently brushing Mingyu's hair off his face, and pressed his lips to his forehead, just above the space between his eyes, just for a second. He rested his forehead against Mingyu's, so that Mingyu had nowhere to look but his eyes, which were warm and tender and all things good. "Really," he replied. "Now let's drink some water and get you to bed, hm?" And just like that, he was gone and walking towards the kitchen, but Mingyu could see a big grin on his face as he walked away.

~

Things were beyond awkward in the morning. After Minghao left the room, Mingyu curled up into a ball and didn't move for the next six hours, too scared to sleep and see his father again. He thought about what Minghao might say in the morning. Maybe he'd call him a freak, or some variation of it. That would be painful, but not undeserved. Maybe he'd try to smooth it over with more sex. That didn't sound so bad, despite the emotional consequences. Maybe he'd just kick Mingyu out entirely. It wasn't like he should have come home like nothing was different anyway.

It wasn't until past 9 when Minghao emerged from his room, his head low. By then, Mingyu was exhausted, stressed, and felt like picking a fight. And when Mingyu was stressed, he lashed out and was cold and mean and angry and exactly like what his father had wanted him to be, which he hated. He watched as Minghao walked to the refrigerator, grabbed something, and proceeded to eat as if Mingyu wasn't even there.

That was not one of the three predetermined outcomes. Time to adapt.

"You can look at me, you know," said Mingyu, breaking the silence. The hard edge to his voice surprised him, and it must have surprised Minghao, too, because his head shot up. "Or better yet, you could talk to me."

To Mingyu's surprise, Minghao looked tired, not angry, with dark circles under his eyes and deeper worry lines on his forehead. Maybe Mingyu wasn't the only one not sleeping. There were also bandages wrapped around his hand, and bruises around his wrist. Shame flooded his veins like a poison at the sight of it, squeezing his heart like a vice.

"I'm sorry about how I acted last night," said Minghao, staring just south of Mingyu's eyes.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, curious. " _I'm_ sorry. I'm the one who choked you in my sleep."

"Because I hadn't thought about the war," said Minghao. "It was stupid of me to think that things would be normal after you came back. That you wouldn't be broken."

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. "Broken?"

Minghao chewed on his bottom lip. "Maybe that was the wrong choice of words."

No kidding. There was a bitter taste in Mingyu's mouth, and he felt provoked. "Thank you, Minghao, for insinuating that I'm broken."

Minghao's eyes flashed, like they did whenever he and Mingyu were about to get in a fight. "You know what I mean."

"Well," said Mingyu coldly, "thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."

"I'm just saying," said Minghao, "no normal person should feel the need to attack people and scream like hell in their sleep."

Even though Mingyu had been the one who'd asked Minghao to talk, he definitely didn't feel like talking anymore. "This doesn't really seem like an apology to me."

Minghao closed his eyes for a second before reopening them. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. Gentler. "I really am sorry about last night," he said, and it sounded genuine. When Mingyu said nothing, he sighed, standing up and throwing away the remainder of his breakfast. "I have to get ready for work. Hopefully you'll be in a better mood when I get back."

It wasn't until after Minghao left when Mingyu started feeling bad for being rude, but the damage had already been done. 

~

On the eastern border of Manta, there was another kingdom called Atomia, and Manta and Atomia had been at war for what must have been decades, if not centuries. Mingyu's father used to gather Mingyu and his two brothers and tell stories about how the Atomians were a barbaric people with devils' horns and fangs, how they pleasured in ripping apart Mantanians with their teeth and feeding them to their demon children. For this reason, he said, it was the job of all Mantanians to fight back and avenge the ones who were lost, and it was the job of all Gladius City people to fight back harder than all the rest. 

Mingyu was naive as a child, but he had never been one to believe in stories. For him, things were straightforward: humans did not eat other humans without good reason, people did not go to war without good reason, and people did not shoot cats without good reason.

And the war was just as straightforward. Even as a young boy, he knew that outgoing Gladius City trains were always full, but incoming trains were always empty. He knew that when he was younger, soldiers were given a full set of weapons, with swords and shields and armor and all of the knives anyone could wish for, but that soldiers would sometimes leave with only a lead pipe or two as he got older. Mingyu's father would boast about how Manta always won all of their battles and that the Atomians were going to surrender any day now and that he had been the bravest of all of the soldiers from his squadron, but Mingyu would hear him screaming and begging for mercy in his sleep every night. While Mingyu was emotional and gentle and dishonorable, he was not stupid.

His ideas from childhood about the war were only corroborated when he came to Circum City. In university, students were allowed to talk about the war as something more than an opportunity for glory; rather, it was a suicide mission for most soldiers because Manta simply did not have the funds or the population to withstand against Atomia, who was much larger and wealthier.

In fact, in the Atomians' eyes, Manta was the barbaric nation, the ones with the horns and the fangs and the cannibalistic tendencies. Manta was the idiotic kingdom that was so incompetent, they believed they were competent.

It was funny how believing in honor could mean losing so much common sense.

~

Mingyu had seen what PTSD looked like. Most people from Gladius City, at least the ones that had gone to war and survived, had it, and it showed in a lot of different ways. But whether it was the veteran that drank herself to sleep or beat his wife and kids or withdrew from society completely, the word _broken_ wasn't very far off for any of those scenarios. War was like that; it broke people's bones, it broke people's families, and it broke people's sanities.

Mingyu knew the signs, and he knew the causes, but he'd never thought such a thing would happen to him. At first, it was the idea that he'd never have to go to war and because of that, he was safe, but after he was drafted into the army, it was his own pride, and the selfish thought that he could be different. But last night, he'd had such a nightmare that he'd hurt Minghao. That wasn't being different.

He had meant to get up to go outside or at least change clothes, but the same scene kept running through his head: the warehouse camp, the wind and the thunder outside, the enemy soldiers breaking down the door, the enemy soldiers slaughtering every single soldier in that camp except for him, hiding on the floor pretending to be dead while a hundred-odd of his colleagues slowly bled out, running out of the warehouse once the ambushers were gone, waiting in the rain for someone to find him. Every time he tried to stand up, the memories came back, and he was back at square one. 

Broken. That sounded about right.

Minghao came home from work late in the evening, looking pristine as always, while Mingyu was lying on the couch in the exact same position he'd been in when he'd left. He sat up and cleared his throat to get Minghao's attention.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he said, because the last thing Minghao deserved for taking his broken ex-boyfriend in like a stray was to get yelled at. "For being rude today. It was out of line."

"Thank you for saying that," said Minghao, a touch too formal. It felt like when Mingyu was a kid and was confessing to stealing the crackers from the snack cabinet and Minghao was the strict teacher that made him write an apology letter.

"And I'm sorry for showing up at your doorstep," Mingyu added. "I know that you probably didn't want to see me." Was that too personal? Mingyu didn't know. It had always been hard to know what Minghao was thinking, and time hadn't made that any easier.

Fortunately, whatever he said must have struck a chord, because Minghao walked over to the living room area and sat down on the coffee table across from Mingyu, not looking tired or angry or scared for the first time.

"Don't be sorry for coming back here," he said. "I would be offended if you came back to Circum City alive and you didn't tell me." He gave a small smile, and suddenly, Mingyu was reminded of the Best Friend Minghao from long ago, the Minghao that would beat up anyone who dared to hurt Mingyu. "And you're not broken. I shouldn't have said that."

Mingyu shrugged. "You were right."

Minghao's eyes softened, and he reached out to lay a hand on Mingyu's shoulder, tender. "You're not broken, Mingyu," he said, and the way he said it made Mingyu want to believe him. "It's okay to be scared." He stood up, pulling his hand away, but Mingyu still felt the ghost of its warmth. "I'll be in the bedroom if you need anything."

~

The day after graduation, Mingyu and Minghao went on a date. An actual, real-life, non-just-best-friend-hangout date. It wasn't as fun as it could've been, since Mingyu had a wicked hangover, but Minghao quietly slipped his hand into Mingyu's as they took the elevator downstairs, squeezing it slightly and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, so Mingyu learned not to care about stupid things like light sensitivity and pounding headaches.

After dinner, Minghao took him to the building where he worked, where there was an observatory on the top floor that looked out on the whole city. "I go up here when I'm tired of working," he said to Mingyu. "It's quiet."

"It's beautiful," said Mingyu, and it was quite the sight. Because it was nighttime, all of the city lights seemed to be that much brighter, lighting up in the pitch-black sky like stars, and out in the distance, he could see the green hills of the Spring Quarter, Minghao's old home. He could see why Minghao would like it here.

He looked over at Minghao, who was staring back at him with a shy, hopeful smile on his face, like he was silently asking, _do you like it?_ It was only then when he realized how close they were; Mingyu could count every one of Minghao's eyelashes.

"I really like you," he blurted out. Minghao's face froze for a moment, and then he pulled back and burst out laughing. "What?" Mingyu asked, indignant. "It's true!"

Minghao shook his head, still laughing. "I know it's true, you idiot," he said. "We went over that yesterday. Now, can I kiss you or will you need a day to process that, too?"

Mingyu shoved Minghao's shoulder, face burning, but Minghao just tucked his head into Mingyu's neck, still laughing, winding his arms around his waist. "You're so mean to me," Mingyu huffed. Minghao kissed the side of his neck, one, twice, three times. Mingyu's heart felt like it was beating quadruple-time. "Just kiss me, you big bully."

So Minghao did. It was slow and sweet, and Mingyu immediately kissed him back, breathing in the scent of Minghao's cologne and running a hand through the back of his hair. They made out until Mingyu was flushed and breathless, and Minghao's mouth stilled against Mingyu's ear. "Can I take you home?" he asked, as if there was any world in which Mingyu would say no. 

Why would he need honor when he could have this?

~

That night, Mingyu dreamed of the warehouse again.

This time, though, it was empty, so it was just Mingyu lying on the floor, alone. He tried to stand up, but for some reason, he was paralyzed. It was raining again and harder, cold water spilling through the roof and through the door and through the windows, slowly submerging him and freezing him in place. It was windy outside, unnaturally so, and he shivered in the cold air, still trying to move but unsuccessful.

Suddenly, a strong wind blew through the open door of the warehouse, strong enough to blow anyone right off their feet, but Mingyu was still glued to the spot, unable to do anything but take the breeze. He screamed, for help, for anyone, even for Minghao, but his surroundings were enveloped in a heavy fog, and there was a dark shadow forming out of the floor, and he didn't have to look up because somehow he knew he'd see his father if he did and everything was happening at once-

And suddenly he was awake, gasping for air, like he had been submerged underwater for too long.

"Water?" It was Minghao, sitting on the coffee table again. He still looked wary, but he didn't look nearly as worried or terrified as he had the night before. He held out the glass, and Mingyu took it with shaking hands. 

"I'm sorry," he said once he'd caught his breath. "I'll look for a new apartment in the morning and then you won't have to put up with me anymore."

"It's alright," said Minghao, and it seemed like he meant it, too.

"You can go back to bed now," said Mingyu, sitting up and reaching for one of the books on Minghao's end table. "I'll be okay."

Minghao's eyebrows furrowed together. "You're not going back to sleep?"

Mingyu shook his head. "I don't want to wake you up again." Minghao's scowl deepened, and he stood up, beckoning Mingyu to follow. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"To bed."

"How will me sleeping in your bed help me fall asleep?" In fact, it would probably make it worse. As soon as the bed came into view, Mingyu was hit with a slew of some not-so-wholesome memories of the past. Maybe sleeping in the same bed as his ex wasn't such a great idea.

Minghao stopped walking. There was an uncertain look on his face, and his hands were fidgeting. "I don't know," he said, shrugging. "We used to...this used to be your bed. Maybe you'll be more comfortable sleeping here." He let out a sigh and shook his head. When he looked up at Mingyu again, his face was impassive again. "I mean, do whatever you want," he said with forced nonchalance. "I don't really care." 

There was a moment where no one said anything, where Mingyu weighed his options. Did he want to sleep next to Minghao? Yes. No. Maybe. _Should_ he? Probably not. But there was still a small part of him, deep in the crevices of his heart, that _ached_ to be close to Minghao, to take all of the affection Minghao was willing to give. It was the same part of him that had wanted Minghao back when they were kids.

"If you were lonely sleeping by yourself, you could've said so," said Mingyu, trying to lighten the mood. 

Minghao pressed his lips tightly together, but he played along. "I'm a hermit," he said, his mouth twitching upwards into a little smile. "I don't get lonely." Still, he took Mingyu by the forearm and led him into the room.

He hadn't had much time to look around yesterday before he got pulled into bed with Minghao, but the bedroom had changed a lot since Mingyu had left. The walls were painted a slate grey as opposed to its former cream color, and there was a new painting hung over the bed. Mingyu hadn’t bothered to ask if Minghao was single, but his answer was found in the way that Mingyu’s old nightstand was empty and all of the blankets were on one side of the bed. 

But there were similarities, too. Their empty wine bottle collection was still on the dresser, and the old fairy lights Mingyu had bought at a market in Collis Town were still hung up over it, giving the room a soft, warm glow. Some of Mingyu’s photos from college were still framed and hung up, too.

Back when they were still together, Mingyu would look at the wine bottles every night and his mind would flash back to the countless nights where Mingyu got tipsy on wine with Minghao and let him climb into his lap and suck marks into his neck, hips rolling. The sight of it used to make a flame spark deep in his gut, eager to have a repeat. But back in the present, it only felt bittersweet, a cruel reminder of what he couldn’t have.

The last thing was a photo of the two of them at the observatory on their first anniversary, taped to the mirror in the corner. After their first date, they’d made an effort to return to the observatory for most of their following anniversaries. In the photo, Mingyu had his arm extended, where he was holding the camera, looking excited and grinning like an idiot, while Minghao had his lips pressed to Mingyu’s cheek, his eyes closed, smiling like he couldn’t help it.

Even though they weren’t looking at each other, it was obvious that they were in love, from the serene look on Minghao’s face to the way their heads seemed to just fit perfectly together in the frame.

Mingyu didn’t know why Minghao had kept the photo. Quality-wise, the photo wasn’t very good, and there were definitely better ones that had been thrown out. For Mingyu, seeing the photo was even worse than seeing the wine bottles. He could understand not throwing away the collection because of the time spent putting it together, but keeping that one specific photo had been a deliberate choice from Minghao, and he hated that it sparked hope. A hope that maybe Minghao was still holding on, that they could be together again.

He looked over at Minghao again, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He must have known Mingyu had noticed the photo. Mingyu went to his old side of the bed, and Minghao went to his, lying on the very edge of the bed to make sure it was impossible for Mingyu to touch him. It snapped Mingyu back to reality; even though Minghao had kept the photo, even though Minghao was letting him sleep in his bed, they weren't together. The next morning, Mingyu was probably going to find an apartment, and then he would move out, and then after that, they would never have to speak to each other again.

"I know you're not sleeping," said Minghao from his side of the bed. "You think very loudly."

"I just...I'm just scared I'll hurt you," said Mingyu, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. Minghao used to say Mingyu's inability to hide his feelings was one of his best qualities, but it wasn't serving him at all. "I don't want what happened yesterday to happen again."

Minghao turned onto his side to face Mingyu, so he did the same. "You won't hurt me," he said, his voice kind. "I'm not scared of you. You shouldn't be scared of you either."

Mingyu reached out to lightly touch Minghao's hand - he couldn't help it. Minghao permitted the touch, curling his other fingers around Mingyu's, just holding them there. The gesture was so soft, a lump formed in Mingyu's throat and heat built up behind his eyes, threatening to spill over and make him do something stupid like cry in Minghao's bed. 

For the first time since the warehouse incident, Mingyu slept.

~

It was clear that the war was not going well. People gossiped about the possibility of a surrender, or worse, if the government decided to double down, a draft. Stocks plummeted with every word of another lost battle, and the business-oriented Circum City was in a constant state of panic. 

Meanwhile, Mingyu was _happy_ , something he never would've thought possible. Minghao was a good boyfriend, a great one, the kind of lover he used to dream about when he was young. He had a job, doing freelance photography, which he enjoyed, and an apartment without leaky faucets or mice. For the first time in his life, he was living away from war and away from honor, and he loved it. He loved Minghao.

But then, news of the draft arrived.

He remembered walking home from a date with Minghao when he saw the signs being posted up on all of the buildings. _ATTENTION!_ it read. _ANY AND ALL AUTUMN QUARTER CITIZENS OVER THE AGE OF 18, PRESENT OR FORMER, MUST REPORT FOR DUTY._ There were a bunch of other pieces of information on the sign, but he didn't read the rest. His blood went cold, organs freezing, hand squeezing Minghao's so hard he heard a gasp. _They can't do this,_ he remembered thinking. _This isn't right._

He didn't remember Minghao dragging him home, Minghao's chin held high despite the tears welling in his eyes, refusing to fall, or being pulled into Minghao's arms once they'd closed the front door behind them. He didn't remember burying his face into Minghao's shoulder and sobbing until his eyes were dry. All he could think was, _this isn't right_.

It seemed that although Mingyu was done with honor, honor wasn't quite done with him.

~

The next day was better. Minghao was already gone when Mingyu woke up, but the sleep had done him some good, enough good for him to feel like getting out of bed. In the kitchen, Minghao had left him a note by the coffeemaker, which was already full: _I thought it was best to just let you sleep. Good luck with apartment-searching. I'll be back at 8. -MH_

It was a sweet gesture - the kind of thing Minghao might have done when they were still together. It probably should have scared Mingyu how much things had reverted back to normal since he'd come back: Minghao was making him coffee, they were sleeping in the same bed, Minghao was helping him through bad dreams. But instead of feeling bad about it, he felt greedy, like he wanted things to be the same again. Which was bad, because Minghao couldn't possibly want the same thing. Too much time had passed.

Mingyu wasn't sure where to go to find an apartment, since Minghao had already owned one when they'd decided to move in together, but he looked on the map and found a few real estate agencies, the ones with the pictures of the apartments for sale in the windows, so he started from there.

There were a couple of places he liked, one with nice lighting but no space, one cheap and spacious but on the sixth floor of a building with no elevator, one that was alright but was in the part of the city that used to make Minghao anxious. But with every apartment he toured that day, the more he missed Minghao's apartment, and the life that used to come with it. 

When Minghao came home, Mingyu had a bunch of apartment advertisements laid out on the kitchen table, and takeout on the counter. "I was out, so I figured I'd buy dinner," he said over his shoulder when he saw the door open. 

"You've been busy," said Minghao, though it was hard to know if Minghao found that a good thing or a bad thing. Minghao was always subtly (or not so subtly) judgmental. He crossed the room to stand beside Mingyu, looking thoughtful. "Found one you like?"

Mingyu shook his head. "Nothing perfect yet," he replied. "I'm probably just being too picky."

Minghao went over to the counter to take out the food, humming in approval when he noticed it was Spring Quarter cuisine. "There's no rush," he said. "You can stay here as long as you need."

Mingyu blinked, surprised. Just two days ago, Minghao had seemed ready to turn Mingyu away when he'd arrived at his door, but now he was welcome? He wondered what had changed his mind. The nightmares? Maybe Minghao was pitying him. That didn't feel good. "Thank you," he said, belatedly.

Minghao turned to look at Mingyu, and his eyes were happy, almost fond. Mingyu didn't know who he was looking at. Was it Best Friend Minghao? Boyfriend Minghao? Ex-Boyfriend-but-it's-complicated Minghao? The lines were blurring.

~

There are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Minghao, for all of his orderliness, seemed to have skipped the first one and went straight to anger, pacing back and forth across the living room like a madman, complaining about the government, complaining about the war, complaining about everything that could be complained about. Mingyu, on the other hand, felt like he had gone all the way to acceptance, which made Minghao even more mad.

"Why just the Autumn Quarter?" said Minghao. "Why not the Winter Quarter? God knows they don't do anything over there."

"They chose the Autumn Quarter because most people there are already trained in some form of combat," said Mingyu, even though Minghao wasn't really talking to him. "Kids are taught how to use a sword and throw knives as soon as they can walk."

Minghao turned to face Mingyu. "And why are you so calm about this, huh? You don't think this is right, do you?"

"I'm not calm," he shot back. "There is nothing about me that is calm right now."

"The people should riot," said Minghao. "This is unfair. They can't just force one section of the population to drop their lives and fight."

"Most of the people in the Autumn Quarter are willing to go to war anyway," said Mingyu. "And this isn't a democracy. We don't have a choice. _I_ don't have a choice."

Minghao stopped pacing. "Stop acting like everything is decided already!" He grabbed Mingyu by the shoulders, forcing Mingyu to look into his eyes. For the first time in a while, they looked frightened, like a scared animal in fight or flight response. "You can't just give up on me," he said roughly, something close to desperation.

"Hey, hey, hey," said Mingyu, trying to stop Minghao's body from shaking so much. He touched a hand to Minghao's cheek, trying to soothe. Minghao's face crumpled, and he looked so tired, like the news of the draft had sucked all of the energy out of him. Maybe it had. "Let's calm down, okay?"

"It's just..." Minghao trailed off. "Do you know how long I waited to have this life with you?" Mingyu drew in a sharp breath and shook his head. "Four whole years, that's how long," Minghao continued. "And after those four years, I was _happy_. We were happy. And maybe this is selfish of me - hell, I'm not the one going to war, of course it's selfish - but so how can those son-of-a-bitch government officials just take that happiness away? How could _you_ let them do that?"

"Maybe it'll be okay," Mingyu said, trying to be optimistic. "Manta's almost done for. It'll be two or three months and then they'll surrender, and I can come back home." 

"But what if you don't come back home?" asked Minghao. "What about then?"

"Then," said Mingyu, "we can cross that bridge when we come to it."

Maybe Minghao was right, maybe he had given up. But he wasn't about to waste time with Minghao worrying about the draft. The clock was ticking, so he settled on comforting Minghao while he was still there.

~

Mingyu was back at the warehouse again.

Like the night before, it was empty, except for the drafts of wind blowing through the door and the rain going through the leaky roof, big droplets landing right on his head. Mingyu was still paralyzed on the ground, but he could move his head at least. This small victory didn't give him any help, however, because he continued to thrash on the ground, unable to control his body.

He could see someone waiting in the doorway, but he didn't know why. "Who's there?" He called out. The person walked inside the warehouse, seemingly unperturbed by the strong winds and the rain. Mingyu gasped and writhed even harder once he realized who it was, trying to break free and run away. Although he was only lit by the lightning outside, casting odd shadows in the wrinkles and crevices of his weathered face, he could recognize his father anywhere.

"Father?" He called. "Is that you?"

His father came closer, and closer, until he was kneeling right in front of Mingyu's face. Then, in the blink of an eye, he slapped Mingyu across his cheek. "You idiot!" He yelled. "What were you thinking, running away like that?"

Mingyu recoiled, stunned. He opened his mouth to speak again, but words wouldn't come out. Just as soon as he was moving his head, his whole body was paralyzed once more, his head included.

"In this family," his father continued, "we don't run away when things get hard. We stay, and we fight until the fighting is over. There were 100 other soldiers in here with you, and do you think that they were just being stupid for not running? That they didn't have families to take care of? They stayed, and they fought until their last breath. And where were you?" Mingyu didn't respond. "You are a coward for running. What will your brothers say? What will your neighbors say? What will your mother say?"

Mingyu tried to speak, to scream at him, but he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

His father stood up again, turning his back, his cloak billowing in the strong wind, sending the chilling winds from outside straight towards him. Over his shoulder, he called, "You should have died along with them."

Those words pierced Mingyu straight to the bone, disintegrating the little part of himself that was still together. _I'm going to die_ , he thought. _I'm actually going to die_.

"Mingyu!"

Suddenly, he was back in Minghao's bedroom again, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. His eyes darted around, trying to find Minghao, and sure enough, he was sitting on the end of the bed, looking concerned. "What happened?" He croaked out once he gained control of himself again. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," said Minghao, much to Mingyu's relief. "Are you okay?"

Mingyu shook his head, lying his head back down on the pillow, still catching his breath. "We can't keep doing this."

Minghao crawled back to his side of the bed. "I really don't mind," he said. "And if you want to talk to someone more professional, I can help you find someone."

"I don't want a shrink, Minghao. I'm fine."

"Maybe you don't now," said Minghao, "but after a week of no sleep you might be changing your mind."

"I'm more stubborn than you," he replied, "I won't be changing my mind."

"Then at least let me help you go to sleep," said Minghao. "Just let me do something. Here." He moved into Mingyu's space, his chest against Mingyu's back, arm around his torso, legs tangling with his, holding him in place. The smell of Minghao flooded his nose: almond moisturizer and the scent of his conditioner, herbs infused with home. Like in his dream, Mingyu felt frozen to the spot. When Minghao spoke again, it was like he was leaving butterfly kisses on his neck. "Is this better?"

He wasn't sure if it was better, but he knew that he never wanted it to stop. "What are you doing, Minghao?"

Minghao's body stiffened. "Helping you sleep."

"You don't have to do this, you know. I can leave."

Minghao sighed, and the puff of hot air against his neck sent shivers all through his body. "I don't want you to go."

Something about his voice shook Mingyu down to the core, like Minghao was peeling back the layers of his skin and pulling his heart out from inside his chest. "Yeah?"

Minghao's other hand went into his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, and Mingyu was pretty sure he was in heaven. "Go to sleep."

~

The final days before Mingyu's departure were spent fighting.

It came to the point that he wasn't totally sure what they were fighting about. Minghao would come home from work pissed off and somehow, it would be Mingyu's fault. Mingyu would sit around the house, not doing anything, not going out, and they'd fight about that, too. War was like that. It broke people's hearts.

Mingyu watched as some of his neighbors, people he'd never even known were from the Autumn Quarter, left their apartments with packed bags and worry lines. He was reluctant to pack his own bags, but the deadline was approaching fast, and he didn't want to get dragged out. Minghao was distant, sneaking into bed at odd hours so they didn't have to speak, gone when Mingyu woke up in the mornings. 

The silence was the worst part. He could deal with fighting. Fighting meant that he knew what Minghao was thinking, could pinpoint what the problem was and try to fix it. But when Minghao was quiet, he closed himself off so that Mingyu couldn’t even try to guess Minghao’s thoughts.

The worst fight was the night before Mingyu was scheduled to leave. "What is wrong with you?" Minghao demanded, gripping the dining room table so hard his knuckles turned white. "How could you say I should just move on without you?"

"What do you want me to say?" Mingyu asked. "Do you think I don't know what I'm walking into? I'm going to _die_ , Minghao. In six months you won't have me to hang on to."

Minghao snorted, a loud, ugly thing. "So now I'm clingy."

"I never said that! Stop putting words in my mouth."

"You know what, Mingyu?" Minghao stood up from the table, pushing in the chair so hard it hit the table with a loud _bang!_ and fell over. Minghao didn't move to pick it up. "You don't get it. You don't understand what it's like to be the boyfriend, to watch you give up and tell me to find someone else when you're dead. You don't even try to understand how I feel."

"And you don't understand what it's like to be me!" Mingyu snapped. "You don't know what it's like to be walking into a war I'm never going to win. You don't get that all I want for you is to be happy."

"Well," said Minghao, his teeth gritted, "you're certainly doing a good job of that."

They fought for an hour, maybe two. Mingyu screamed until his voice gave out and he settled for giving Minghao the dirtiest looks he could muster. He and Minghao had never really fought before, had never gotten a taste for how cruel they could be to each other. 

What was supposed to be the last good moment with Minghao was spent apart. Mingyu went to the train station by himself.

~

Mingyu woke up early, when the sun was barely peeking through the gaps between the buildings, bathing the room in a pinkish glow. Minghao was asleep against his back, warm and relaxed, his guard let down for just a second. His breath was steady, slow inhales and exhales, and the rhythm of it slowly brought Mingyu back to sleep.

When he woke up again, the sun was gone, replaced by dark clouds. It was raining hard enough that Mingyu could hear it pattering on the little balcony outside, a steady _pitter-patter_ that sent his heart racing.

"Minghao," he croaked, poking at Minghao's arm, which was still wrapped around him. "Minghao, wake up."

Always the light sleeper, Minghao immediately stirred, tucking Mingyu further into his hold on instinct. It took a few more seconds before Minghao gained enough consciousness and rolled to the other side of the bed, facing Mingyu. "What?"

"It's raining."

Minghao paused, tilted his head. "Yes, it is."

"No," said Mingyu, more urgently. He sat up, fidgeting with his fingers. "It's _raining_."

"So?" Minghao seemed confused, and a more level-headed Mingyu would have realized that he hadn't made any sense, but nothing about him was level-headed, and nothing was okay. His breath was coming faster and faster, head spinning, vision focusing in and out, brain focusing only on the rain, that it was raining, it was raining. He heard thunder, and he felt like screaming.

He could hear Minghao calling his name distantly, like he was far away. It wasn't until Minghao touched his arm, gently, like he was coaxing a scared kitten into coming down from the tree, that he looked up, eyes brimming with unshed tears, mind a jumbled mess.

He'd hoped that if he were to lose his mind, it would be alone, in some sort of closet with the lights off, so that no one would see him. But instead, he was there in front of _Minghao_ , the one person who could consistently impress him, losing his shit over _rain_. He buried his face in his hands, pressing his fingers to his eyes so he couldn't see anything, rocking back and forth.

"What do you need from me?" Minghao asked, and it was so kind of him, so generous to help him, so terribly _good_ that all Mingyu could do was feel like shit. Minghao, who had taken him in, who had gotten hurt and had forgiven him for it, who had given him his bed back, who had held him, was _asking_ if he could do more, and Mingyu had just eaten it all up, was _selfish_ and _dishonorable_ and _undeserving_. 

But selfish people remained selfish, at least to some degree. He slowly removed his hands from his face to look at Minghao. "Can you kiss me?" Mingyu asked softly, reaching towards him. Not reaching anywhere in particular, but just _wanting_ , wishing for Minghao to touch him and tell him everything was going to be fine, everything was alright.

Minghao froze, staring like a deer in headlights. "I..." he started, and then stopped himself. Maybe it was just the anxiety coursing through his veins, or the lack of sleep, but Mingyu swore he could see longing in the way Minghao held himself, how his shoulders curled back, like he was restraining himself. "Mingyu, I can't."

"I just, I need-" said Mingyu, grasping onto the sheets to stop his hands from shaking, closing his eyes to block out the dizziness. "Please, Minghao," he said finally, voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

When he opened his eyes again, Minghao looked vulnerable, unsure, like glass cracking just enough to not break into millions of little pieces, hanging by a thread. Minghao looked down, stared at his hands, one bandaged, the other not. "I can't, Mingyu," he repeated quietly. "I don't want to."

"You...you don't want me?"

"No!" Mingyu's eyes widened, heart rate tripling, airway clogged. Had he read the situation wrong? Had he just imagined everything? Outside, the wind howled.

Minghao's face turned into one of horror when he realized what he'd said. "No, Mingyu," he said, panicked, "that's not what I meant. I...I do want you. So much."

"So, you do want me?" Hope bloomed in his chest, warm and comforting.

"Yes," said Minghao, his voice raw and emotional. "Of course I do." He curled his bandaged hand into a fist, testing the fingers. "But not like this. Later. Okay?"

"Oh." For just a moment, Mingyu forgot about the rain outside, the lightning, the thunder. For that one second, it was just him and Minghao, Mingyu's hands in fists at his sides, Minghao's good hand in a loose grip around Mingyu's forearm, and Mingyu saw it. How much Minghao meant it, that, in a flash, they were one unit again. "Okay."

"Do you want me to stay?" Minghao asked him, and for the first time since he'd come back, there was an easy decision to make.

~

Once, maybe eight months or so after he left, Mingyu wrote Minghao a letter while he was drunk. He found the letter on the floor in the morning while he was hungover, full of misspellings and grammatical mistakes, but the main points were still there. _I miss you every day,_ he'd written. _Everyone here is sad all the time. You used to smile and kiss me hello on the nights where I came home late, and that alone would cure any of my stress or sadness. I wish I was home with you. I want to go home to you._

He never sent the letter. It would have been nice if he could say it was because it had gotten lost during the constant travel, or even that the messenger carrying it had been killed during transport, but Mingyu was dishonorable, and so he tried not to lie to himself, and let himself drown in his own shortcomings. Minghao had moved on already, he'd thought to himself. A letter would only make forgetting worse for him. Stop being so selfish and cruel, Mingyu, haven't you already hurt him enough?

There is selfishness, and then there is insecurity. Mingyu was still trying to find the difference. But maybe Minghao was his again now, just maybe, and maybe for once, Mingyu could get out of his own head, just for a little while.

~

They spent the rest of the day together, in bed, mostly. It was supposed to rain all day, and Minghao didn't feel good about leaving Mingyu alone, so he called in sick and curled up to Mingyu's side.

Eventually, Mingyu's breathing and his heart slowed back to normal, but there was still a fear lying just under the surface of his skin, that everything would go back to the way it was in the warehouse, that he would wake up and still be on the floor between piles of corpses, blood-tinted rainwater forming puddles. He knew Minghao could sense it even though his facial expression didn't give it away, but for all of Minghao's teasing, he always treaded lightly when Mingyu was upset. 

His mind was racing. He thought about _before_ , when they had been in love, how it fell apart. He thought about _during_ , the exhaustion, the fear. He thought about _after_ , seeing Minghao again, wanting him again. It was easier like this, Minghao beside him, fingers threading through his hair, to think about _before_ , where everything felt perfect.

"Did you move on, like I told you to?" he asked abruptly. "After I left, I mean."

Minghao's fingers stilled, resting on the top of his head. "I tried," he replied. "I really, really tried." He was quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "There was a girl, halfway through the first year. I thought...I thought I could try again. To love, I mean. She was beautiful, and kind, and smart, just like you. But I couldn't love her. I was still too angry, and I was still hanging on. After that...I just stopped trying."

"You've been having hookups, though."

Minghao nodded, not shameful exactly, but maybe...regret? "You saw the bite mark."

"I did."

"I'm sorry about everything," said Minghao, brushing Mingyu's bangs out of his eyes. "The fighting, and not seeing you off. And for running away that first night when you came home. I was scared you weren't who you used to be. I had to protect myself."

"I'm not who I used to be," said Mingyu. He closed his eyes. "I don't think I can go back."

"I know," said Minghao. "But I know now that that's okay, too. I want you as you are."

 _I want you as you are. I want you._ It had been two years since Mingyu had been wanted, felt wanted. And that feeling, the sensation of his insides turning liquid, unlike so many things, had not changed one bit.

~

Twenty-five hours after the attack on the warehouse, Mingyu thought he saw Minghao coming towards him.

Apparently, he'd been fatally dehydrated and malnourished and panicking like there was no tomorrow, but through the blurry haze of his memory and mixed through other people's stories, he could have sworn Minghao had been right there in front of him, cupping his face between his hands. " _Baobei_ ," Minghao had said. "Wake up. Can you do that for me?"

And Mingyu hadn't been able to speak, lips chapped and splitting, his throat on fire, but there had been so many things he'd wanted to say. He'd reached up, grasping at Minghao's shoulder like a claw, but Minghao had gently removed his hand and kissed him on the forehead, just like he had so many years ago. "Rest," he'd said. "I'll be there when you wake up."

Later, he'd been told a helicopter had spotted him while they were traveling back to the base camp and the person that had approached him was an Air Force pilot, but he'd much preferred to believe in what he'd seen.

~

"We were hiding out in a warehouse," said Mingyu sometime in the evening. By then, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and they'd finally sat up and ordered food (Summer Quarter cuisine, the ultimate compromise between Mingyu and Minghao's favorites). After dinner, they'd put on a movie in the living room, with Minghao's head leaning on his shoulder, but Mingyu couldn't focus. Not until Minghao knew the whole truth about what happened. 

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," said Minghao, but Mingyu shook his head and kept going.

"There were a hundred of us, or something like that. Another legion had been massacred really close to where we were, about fifty miles from Nevar City, in the Winter Quarter, and the commander was scared the same thing would happen to us. It started pouring late in the evening, so we found an abandoned warehouse to camp at to get out of the rain."

Minghao paused the movie, took Mingyu's hand in both of his. They were freezing cold (Minghao's hands was the type that never really got warm), but they were big and all-encompassing, and it grounded him enough to keep talking.

"They found us at two in the morning, something early like that. We had people taking the night watch and all that, but there were too many of them. Everyone died."

"Except for you," said Minghao, and Mingyu nodded.

"After they were gone...I don't really remember much. I think someone found me and took me back to the base camp. Two weeks later, the war ended."

There was silence for a minute or so, but it wasn't uncomfortable. From the way his head was tilted and his eyebrows were scrunched together the slightest bit, Minghao was thinking. 

"So that's what you see in your dreams." It wasn't a question, but Mingyu nodded anyway. A single tear dropped down his cheek, a traitor. Minghao wiped it away. "It wasn't your fault, you know."

He sniffled. "It feels like that sometimes. When it's raining. When I sleep."

"But it's not," said Minghao. "You were so brave." 

"It wasn't honorable." Another tear.

"It doesn't have to be." Before he knew it, Minghao was climbing into his lap, hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes. "You're alive. That's all that matters."

And then he was crying, sobbing, bawling, into Minghao's shoulder, and Minghao let him, held him. Whispered _I love you_ into his ear, over and over again, a mantra. Shielding him from the rain.

~

The rain stopped, but Minghao still kept a close eye on him, never letting him go too far away. They were back in bed. "Thank you," said Mingyu, in the dark. "For taking me back. And for being so good to me. Even though I'm not the same."

"I've loved you for nine years, since university. Even when you weren't here, I loved you. It is easy for me to be good to you," said Minghao. "And for the record, I'm not the same either. We've both changed a lot."

"I love you," said Mingyu quietly. "I don't think I said that before."

He didn't know who leaned in first, but Minghao's mouth was on his, warm and a little clumsy being in the dark. Intimate, too, like he was saying, _hi, again_. Like the _welcome home_ he'd never gotten. Loving.

And for Mingyu, loving Minghao was the greatest honor he could think of.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know how to write angst, but I tried hard.
> 
> Comments, feedback, and kudos are always appreciated. Thanks!
> 
> You can find me at @Mid_SwordsDance on Twitter and at midnightswordsdance on Tumblr.


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